GANJA FEAR IN CAMBODIA
by Blondielocks In Space
Summary: "Cambodia You say?" Matt can't help but smile when he thinks back on one of the shining moments that makes sticking with Mello worth it.


"The Cambodia mission for Rod Ross you say?" Matt can't help but smile when he thinks back on one of the shining moments that makes sticking with Mello worth it.

But if you ask Mello he will deny having any involvement in such an embarrassing scenario.

ONE MONTH PREVIOUS

"I think we're going to be robbed." I told Mello.

"yeah I think we're going to be robbed." he mumbled back.

It didn't seem much of a big deal after a marathon tequila and marijuana session down at the Heart of darkness, but then the Heart has a special way of leaving you not really caring about much apart from old jam songs and whether to brave the barndance brothel that is Martinis or the techno palace of Manhattan.

We'd settled for the guest house, as it was supposed to be one of those "quiet nights." that just never quite happen in Cambodia.

but we got more action than we'd bargained for thanks to a moto driver who had an uncanny aversion to driving faster than twenty kilometers per hour.

Try and do the right thing by leaving Mellos bike at home in the USA when you are out on a large one and things will inevitably go Pat Pong on you.

Crawling down Monivong Boulevard at snail's pace, we might as well have carried a megaphone requesting people to rob us.

I could sense motorbikes starting their engines on dark corners of Phnom Penh's leading commercial strip, ready to pounce at any moment.

Call it the ganja fear, but I had a bad feeling about the ride we hung a right at the Ministry of Tourism on 232 Street, and after a few junctions it became apparent we were being followed and that our moto man was no Barry Sheene when it came to quick getaways, God Damn Bastard was in on it.

A bike pulled alongside and the guys started shouting in Khmer, which seemed to be our signal to fall off the moto and have a large handgun (that Mello probably knew the make of) pointed in the general direction of our heads.

It was something out of a movie, but I was too baked to take it very seriously. We raised our hands and stared at the stars, me thinking, "I should have had another tequila."

And Mello thinking, "I don't know if I can hold my arms up much longer."

And no doubt deep down in our subconscious, untainted by the noxious weed, we both thought, "gods a sadist."

They felt around our pockets liberally, so liberally in fact that I began to fear we might become victims of molestation rather than robbery, heaven only knows how they managed to get there fingers in Mellos leather pockets stretched to the maximum over his ass there was barely any room in them for a shopping reset.

Mello had a massive 500 riel in his pocket (that's about fifteen cents in total) and I had a whopping $10, which I just had on me in case we changed our course and hit a nightclub, I hoped they wouldn't beat us out of spite, for we hardly represented rich pickings.

Instead, they added credence to my theories of molestation by pulling off my fleecy jacket, This pissed me off more than the money or the inconvenience of being held up at gunpoint, as phnom Penh was in the middle of its coldest snap in years.

And then it was over before we knew, it probably only a minute all up, but in the freeze-frame action of a stoned mind it seemed like an eternity.

They had taken the lot including my Visa card, although I've no idea what it was doing in my wallet in a country with no ATMs.

We walked around the corner to the guest house we had been staying at and saw a few of the SPK that we had ID earlier that week lurking outside the gate.

"Matt if you say a fucking thing about what just happed I'll shoot your DS. I just know Nears got his beady eyes on use and if he finds out about this..."

Butt Mallos attention was diverted by a statement by one of the SPK members to ther friend.

"You won't believe it, we've been robbed!" one of them side.

"So have we!" was the response of another.

It turned out they'd lost a lot more than us paupers, including passports cameras and watches.

Unbelievably most of our stuff was later found near the guest house, neatly stowed in a plastic bag, including the passports, the Visa card and other forms of ID. this was useful for Mello the photos and ID from the SPK helped him pin down a few more of Nears crew, lucky we fownd the dumped goods first.

"Robbers with a conscience?" I asked.

"Probably just realized they'd been messing with the wrong guys." Mello replied in an attempt to patch his bruised pride.

But what didn't come back I noticed was my jacket, I had been well and truly fleeced.

THE END

AN:

I got this idea after reading a travel guide, so it's heavily based on that (Can't remember the name of it.) Also I used characters and thems from Death Note, so as you all know this is a work of fiction and I hold no claim on any of it.

R&R, And just so you know that's not rest and relax yo.


End file.
